


Recover Your Strength

by bulma90_13



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, Magic, POV Alternating, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 00:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8869084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulma90_13/pseuds/bulma90_13
Summary: How does Legolas cope with Aragorn’s fall and then his injury with the inevitable battle of Helms Deep looming over them?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago, but in the interest of having all my stuff in one place (because my stuff has been deleted off of other inferior sites), I'm reposting here!

“Leave the dead.” He had said.

* * *

I could not bear the thought. I just could not. The Evenstar was cold against my hand, and I grasped it harder, letting its point dig into my palm. My vision was dark and I could no longer taste the rank air that barely moved through the stale keep. All that remained was the buzz of the chattering Men and the pain of the pendant in my hand. Not a lie. He fell…

It was then I snapped out of my private suicide. My sensitive ears picked up the excited whispers that seemed to bounce from everywhere in the dark keep of Helm’s Deep. The echoed voices sent a shock through my stoic body.

“Aragorn! Lord Aragorn has returned!”

I exhaled silently. I would not admit it, but I had already begun to fade. His absence was sudden, and I had no way to deal with it. The Halls of Mandos were calling me. I was ashamed to realize it, but I was perfectly content to stand against the stone wall…still…so very still…until all the Men around me had forgotten my existence, and my body was naught but dust.

But there was no time for that now. The blood pumped through my immortal veins as it ever had, my pulse quickening as I moved from my depressing corner of the dingy keep. I saw him trudging in, his head down. He limped, it seemed. He was obviously hurt, but I was surprised he could still walk. The cliff had been a long way down, even for a great man such as Aragorn.

I fought to keep the smirk from his face as Aragorn nearly walked into me. The man raised his head, weary and fatigued.

I was so relieved to see him that I ignored all courtesy, and accused him in jest.

“Le abdollen.”

Perhaps I was justified in my accusation. After all, it was disturbing to realize I had just been in the process of killing myself not a moment before. Would I have succeeded in completely fading away if Aragorn truly had died? What would Gimli think? My father? What would Aragorn think? Was I truly so weak that I needed this mortal to anchor me to this world of peril and death?

Perhaps.

He looked at me in disbelief. He must have been worse off than he first appeared, if that was possible. I studied him slowly. His clothing was worn beyond repair. It had holes everywhere. Blood and mud coated his matted hair. There was a gaping wound on his shoulder, probably from a Warg. It looked infected.

“You look terrible,” I amended.

His face broke out into a grin, his eyes crinkling around the edges, and laughed. I had to laugh as well. It was funny now that he had nearly died. It was funny now that I had nearly followed him.

He raised his hand to my shoulder as I did the same. He was weakened, that much was certain. His feeble hands could barely grasp my shoulder enough for me to feel it through my leather armor.

Seeing him weakened made me clench my other fist, and I felt the sharp bite of the Undómiel in my palm. I gratefully held it out to him, glad to be rid of it.

He looked down at my outstretched hand in shock. He certainly thought it was lost just as I had thought he was lost. He held out his bloodied hand and I placed the Evenstar gently into his.

He continued to stare at it, glimmering brightly in the dark of the keep. He looked up at me, some strange emotion hidden in his grey-blue eyes.

“Hannon le,” he whispered.

I could only smile warmly back.

* * *

I was glad to be at his side once more. It gave me a purpose. It made me focused. It was clear to me that I was never meant to rule the Wood-Elves as my father’s heir. Perhaps it is best that way. Perhaps my incompetence as a leader will permit me always to follow. Always following Aragorn.

I watched his weary face explain our situation to the Lord of the Mark. Théoden was young comparatively, but his face showed years of worry and torment. So much pain and suffering for someone so young. I prayed that death find him quickly, if not for glory, then for pity.

“Ten thousand?” The king of Rohan turned around to stare at Aragorn.

“It is an army bred for a single purpose,” Aragorn continued. I held my breath. “To destroy the world of Men.”

* * *

Long after Théoden had left us to securing the keep, Aragorn was still giving direct but considerate instructions to the King’s meager guard. There were not many to instruct, and so Aragorn began to instruct me.

“We’ll place the reserves along the wall. They can support the archers from above the gate.”

What reserves? What soldiers did Aragorn think we had? And what archers was he referring to? Certainly he did not call any man with a bow an _archer?_

He lifted his arm to motion to the wall, and I watched as he winced against the pain. That was it. I could not bear to see him injured. I had to say something.

“Aragorn…” I watched him turn sideways to acknowledge that he heard me as he continued to move forward. I tried to make my voice reasonable. “You _must_ rest!”

He was turned just enough for me to see him scoff at my proposal. I felt helpless. My plea had already fallen on deaf ears. But I had to try.

“You’re no use to us half alive…” I finished softly. He was about to turn to address me when the shieldmadien of Rohan rushed to meet him.

“My lord!” she called from afar. Aragorn met my gaze apologetically. My eyes flashed in fury. I was to be pushed aside for this woman? “Aragorn!”

He walked forward to meet her. Apparently so.

Éowyn’s face was flushed. She seemed upset.

“I’m to be sent with the women into the caves,” I heard her loudly explain to him. Crowds of people now separated us, and I struggled to hear Aragorn’s response.

“That is an honorable charge,” He replied calmly.

Éowyn continued, clearly upset at his reaction.

“To mind the children, to find food and bedding for when the men return! What renown is there in that?”

She had a point. Aragorn stepped closer to her, and spoke so softly even I could not hear what he said. The crowd of Men heading into the cave began to thin so that I could see them again.

I saw Aragorn turn from her, and suddenly the woman exploded in rage, earning the stares of nearly everyone around us.

“You do not command the others to stay!”

Aragorn turned back to her. I craned my head to see, curious about what she was referring to. She continued ranting, just as angry as when she began.

“They fight beside you because they would not be parted from you!”

I knew then of whom she spoke. Me. And Gimli, of course.

She finally lowered her voice, but only a small bit. It was easy to hear her last accusation.  
“…Because they love you!”

I could not see Aragorn’s face, but whatever the expression, Éowyn eventually lowered her head in shame and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She suddenly brushed past Aragorn and then brushed past Gimli and I in a huff, leaving me looking questioningly at Aragorn.

His face was easy enough to read. He was saddened for her unfortunate charge, but there was nothing he could do about it. Men of Rohan had strange formalities when it came to gender. Apparently, even in a warring state, women should not fight.

After locking eyes with me, he turned back around and headed towards the armory.

I narrowed my eyes. If he thought he could limp the night away until the Uruk-hai arrived, he was mistaken.

I would not let him fall again.

*************************************************************************************

I headed immediately to the small room that Théoden had offered me for rest. I needed to examine the scrape on my arm. It stung terribly.

No sooner had I removed my leather tunic that I heard a soft tapping on the old wooden door.

I made my way across the little space that was in the room and placed a hand on the door, my other hand reaching for the hilt of my sword that was still at my waist.

“Yes?” I called.

“Edro i fen, Aragorn.” Came the melodic demand.

I sighed, releasing my grip on my sword. Legolas sounded just as angry as he had been earlier. I knew he would demand me to rest. Could he not see that was what I was attempting?

I pulled the heavy door open and he pushed his way inside.

I turned to face him, but his back was to me. I open my mouth to speak, but he cut me off.

“Car-ammen thurin.”

My brow furrowed, but I closed the door nonetheless. He did not move to say anything further, but the quiver on his back continued to rise and fall as he breathed evenly.

“What is this about, Legolas? There are only precious few hours until the Uruk-hai beat upon these walls, and I hoped to find some solitude.”

He finally moved, walking about the small room, his bright eyes roaming to take in all the room’s details. His eyes finally settled on me.

“You will find no rest within the walls of Men.”

I sighed again, my eyes closing in defeat. He was right, of course. My mind was racing with the coming battle, and I was wounded. I would be lucky if I could bandage myself well enough to stand a chance against the coming slaughter.

“What would you have me do?” I asked, meeting his gaze finally. My voice caught in my throat as I realized he had walked so close to me our noses were nearly touching.

His eyes bore into mine. “I would have you recover your strength.” He spoke carefully, his eyes flashing rapidly, trying to see all of my face from so close a distance. “Within the walls of an Elf.”

I stepped away from him. “There is no time to travel to—!”

“Ta thand, mellon-nîn.” He took my hands suddenly into his own. It was a strange gesture. Never had I seen him so gentle. “That is why _I_ have come.”

I was desperately trying to read what he was trying to convey in his eyes. Legolas had a plan. A plan for me to recover my strength by the time our enemies arrived. What magic was this? An Elvish healing spell that Lord Elrond knew nothing of? Even with his medicine, wounds took time to heal.

“Of what do you speak?” I asked breathlessly.

He released my hands and walked to the edge of the bed. The candles on the small table cast strange shadows across his fair face.

“Let the life of the Firstborn replenish your body.” He paused, as if gauging my reaction. “Share my strength.” He ended.

My brow furrowed further. “I do not understand.”

“’Tis an ancient technique of the Wood-Elves,” a small smile graced his lips, his eyes still upon me in my thin maroon tunic. “Through the joining of bodies, one creature can channel strength into the other.”

My eyes widened and I looked around the closed room frantically as if expecting someone to have heard his unthinkable suggestion. Surely Legolas was not implying that we…joined bodies?

He stood, his thin figure coming very close to mine. “It is a good plan, Aragorn. It will work.”

“I-I could not!” I stammered, nearly pushing him away.

“Why not?” he insisted, moving to stand just as close to me as before.

“I love her, Legolas.”

“And she knows it, Aragorn. Yet she also sees the dire need for this.”

Again, I backed away and looked around the room, as if the answer would be carved into the stone.

A glint of light caught my attention, and my eyes followed it. He had begun removing his quiver, the silver buckle shining as the candlelight hit it.

“Daro—” I began desperately.

“It is the only way.” He continued calmly, placing his full quiver gently on the stone floor.

“I…”

His eyes locked with mine. “You must do this. If not for yourself, then for _her_.” His mouth tightened into a grim line. “You _must_ last the night.”

I swallowed. Perhaps he was right. This was necessary. I was wounded. I would need to be strong. What choice did I have?

“I concede. Your words are true.”

He approached me, and I closed my eyes. It was true what they said about him. He _was_ fair of face… _far_ beyond the measure of men.

“Ni sí an edraith le, Aragorn.” I felt his fingers just brush the side of my face. “Please, see me as such.”

I swallowed again, not trusting myself enough to open my eyes. I feared what he would see there.

His fingers left my skin, and I heard the faint rustling of fabric. My mind was in a haze. Was this truly to happen?

“Perhaps,” he began softly, “it would be helpful to remove your tunic.”

My face burned at his suggestion. I burned more with the shame of my reaction. Was there to be no peace for me this night? Was I exchanging physical ache for a hidden pain? Why was this so difficult? I had seen the elf naked before. Why my sudden reaction thus?

As if he could read my thoughts, his hands found my shaking arms. “Fear not your body’s reaction, Aragorn. ‘Tis natural.”

I shook my head, turning away from his touch, and ripped off my thick boots. There was nothing natural about the joining of an elf and a man. My breeches were proving to be more difficult, so I took my time with them, not wanting to damage them in my rage. As I was about to remove my last barrier, the maroon tunic, the candles were suddenly blown completely out.

And yet there was light. I turned to its source and audibly gasped.

The light of the Eldar glowed through his skin and illuminated the stone room with a majestic blue tint. It was foolish for me to think that he would not glow as the other elves of this world. Had I forgotten the beauty of his skin underneath the archer’s armor? The sight of his naked flesh lying upon the crude fur of the bed sent an odd pang through my body, and I nearly collapsed to my knees.

“I do not deserve this.” I whispered.

He sat up, his long, glowing legs cascading over the side of the bed. His fingers began to work at the braids that lined his head. “Av-'osto, Aragorn. I give this to you freely.”

I could not meet his gaze, and I was ashamed to look anywhere else. “I am not worthy of such a gift.”

He scoffed, moving to the other side of his head to undo the braid there as well. “Of course you are, hîl od Isildur.”

I raised myself to a standing position and removed at last the maroon tunic. The light of the Evenstar cast its own light about the room. He had at last finished in his task, and laid back against the crude bedding, his golden hair falling about his fair face as he stared gently at me.

For a fleeting moment, I thought of Arwen. I thought of her nude body, and how long ago, in a different time and place altogether, we had joined as one. I thought of how her breath seemed to melt into my own as we panted our love for each other. I thought of her dark hair against the sleek pillows of her bed. I thought of the trust we had in each other. I thought of her promise. And of mine.

Legolas still glowed just as brilliantly on the fur. I grabbed the Evenstar, and gripped it tightly. I thought of Arwen, and prayed to the Valar that she could forgive me this.

I approached the bed.

“Legolas, I—”

“Ú-pedo…” he whispered. I fell silent. So did he.

His strong arms drew my body onto the bed. I hovered over him, still not willing to touch him at all. I would taint him. I would maim his perfect, glowing flesh.

“Perhaps it would be helpful to prepare yourself,” he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.

I turned my head away, toward the wall. Prepare myself. Could he not see that I was nearly bursting?

My eyes closed and I clenched my jaw. “Tell me when _you_ are prepared.”

“Very well,” was the simple answer. I felt him shift his weight, but I dared not look. I kept my eyes fastened to the dull rock beside me, my hands idle at my sides.

It was not for a few moments that I heard the first noise. It was nothing more than an exhale, but caused my ears to focus on the breathing. His breathing that was growing more and more erratic by the second.

“It’s time,” he breathed, causing my already flushed face to burn anew. I turned my head to look at him.  
His face was turned to the side, one hand completely covering it. His knees were drawn up so that his most intimate places were exposed to me. I hesitated.

“I cannot do this…”

His only response was to put a small glass vial of clear liquid in my hand.

Shaking my head, I emptied the contents onto my hand, grabbed my desire, and closed my eyes, just for a moment. I expected to see Arwen before me, telling me this was necessary, telling me I was doing her no harm. Instead, I saw nothing but Legolas, his body writhing on the bed, and I, before him, the only one able to sate his desire.

My eyes shot open. Legolas still hid his face, though his breathing was erratic. I reached for the tops of his thighs and hissed at the coolness of his skin.

“You’re cold…” I whispered.

“Nay…” he whispered. “Just do it.”

I swallowed thickly and braced myself for the coming pressure. With one quick and powerful thrust, I was inside.

I threw my head back in a silent yell at the heat. He had prepared himself well, though he was still tight enough to be a little uncomfortable. It suddenly registered that he was tensed. Scared, even.

“Legolas?” I questioned, opening my eyes to look down at him.

His eyes were squeezed shut in pain, and he bit his own hand almost viciously.

He finally relaxed his face and moved his hand back to cover his face. “I am fine, Aragorn. Continue.”

A pang of guilt worked its way through my body, but I nonetheless began a slow but steady rhythm. By the Valar, he felt amazing around me. It had been too long. I was enjoying this far too much.

A few minutes passed, and I noticed that there was still silence. My shoulder was beginning to ache even more from my movements, and Legolas was still as cold as ice.

“Legolas, I can go no further.”

His eyes snapped open and he turned his face to look at me. He was shocked. “But, why? ‘Tis not done.”

“It matters not. I can see that you do not want this and—”

He sat up further, one hand coming to my lips to silence me. “I _do_ want this, Aragorn. I want you to be strong.”

I looked away from him, furious. I finally found words. “Is it not possible for you to want this in another way, as well?”

His eyes opened in shock, and then he dropped his gaze to his lap. His golden hair fell forward over his shoulders.

“Aye, Aragorn. I _do_ want this, as well, in another way.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Perhaps a little too much.”

Still sheathed inside of him, I grabbed his chin with my hand. “I would have you make it known to me.”

His eyes, normally such a clear blue, were dark navy with arousal. I licked my chapped lips without realizing it, and his eyes widened.

He took a shaky breath. “I am ashamed.”

I shook my head. “I will never bed someone who does not want it in the most basic of ways.”

He nodded slowly and moved his chest closer to mine. He paused before wrapping his arms gently around my neck. His legs that were hooked high upon my sides tightened, and it was as if I was suddenly encased by the fire of Mount Doom.

He trembled, leaning his head against my unwounded shoulder. “Aníron le,” he whispered.

The change in his body was instant. I thrust again, and he came down to meet me. My grip on his hips tightened, and he scratched at my back. If possible, he began to glow brighter, the eerie blue glow lighting up the entire room. A warmth spread through my body as we continued to move.

It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Heat from every angle. His body quivering as I sheathed myself over and over. And then I felt his mouth hesitantly taste my skin. It was too much. I pushed him back down onto the bed and ravaged his mouth, never pausing in my deep thrusting. He returned the kiss with passion, wrapping his legs higher and pulling me deeper within his immortal body.

His head thrashed upon the bed. He could only reach down and touch his own desire as I continued to stroke that secret place inside him. His mouth sang with all the languages of Middle Earth, and even the language spoken in the West. It was my name upon his lips. My name that he praised as one of the Valar while I shared his strength. Such beautiful blasphemy.

I felt the stinging of the Warg bite leave my body as if it were simply wiped away. The soreness in my muscles turned to pure ecstasy as we joined. And when I felt the end was coming, I held myself away from him for a few moments longer so that I could enjoy his tight heat for a few more precious minutes.

The end came too soon. With a final shout, I spilled myself inside of him. He had already come undone, and so he graced my neck with tender kisses as my vision cleared. I removed myself from him carefully.

He said nothing, but released me almost instantly and began replacing his clothes. I could not help but feel a little hurt, but I pushed that feeling aside as I remember the point of it all. My strength. I felt completely rested. The joining had worked.

“How do you feel?” he asked calmly, lacing up his chemise.

“Wonderful.” I answered honestly. “Hannon-le, Legolas. I—”

“No need to thank me, Aragorn. As a friend, I am certain you would have done the same for me.”

I paused, still sitting completely nude on the soiled bed. A friend. Not a lover. No, of course not. Legolas simply wanted me to heal. I belonged to Arwen. This would never happen again.

Never again.

I had no reason to be angry with him. None at all.

But I was.

***************************************

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the dialogue is directly from The Two Towers Extended Edition.
> 
> Sindarin to English Translations:
> 
> Le abdollen = You're late  
> Hannon le = Thank you  
> Edro i fen = Open the door  
> Car-ammen thurin = Close the door; literally, "Make us hidden"  
> Ta thand, mellon-nîn = That is true, my friend  
> Daro = Stop  
> Ni sí an edraith le = I'm here to save you  
> Av-'osto = Don't be afraid  
> Hîl od Isildur = Heir of Isildur  
> Ú-pedo = Don't speak  
> Aníron le = I want you (sexually)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [［授权翻译］Recover Your Strength](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9195719) by [RobertLewandowski](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobertLewandowski/pseuds/RobertLewandowski)




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